Learning Experiences
by Tani Barton
Summary: Waiting for the Rain by Sheila Gordon Frikkie's in a hospital after the end of the book, and what Tengo said finally sinks in. Of course everything changes.


Tani's note: I read Waiting for the Rain by Sheila Gordon last year for English class. It wasn't that bad of a book, but the ending just killed me. I wanted to know what happened after! Not to mention that I thought everyone was being way too hard on Frikkie. I mean, it's not easy to change something you've believed your entire life within just a few minutes! So I decided to fix it, at least somewhat. Hope you enjoy!

* * *

Have you ever looked deep into your soul, really deep, and took stock of everything in there that makes you you? I doubt it; most of us never have a reason to. Of course, the world is a big place. 'Most' probably still leaves out enough people to populate countries. So maybe I'm not as alone as I feel. Of course, then again, maybe I am.

My head is pounding. In my less clear-headed moments I've wondered if maybe Tengo had put a hole in my head and let in a bunch of his black friends. They could be banging around, taking out all their frustrations against the world on my poor head. It certainly feels like it. The rest of the time, now, for example, I understand that when Tengo bashed me over the head with that piece of iron, he gave me a bad concussion, as well as nearly caving in my skull. Maybe my thick-headedness is good for something after all, despite the way it seems to have ruined my life. All my old beliefs have just flown out the window, right along with everything else I used to cherish. My life has become as near to Hell as I can imagine it being, and it's all my fault. Note to self: never believe someone blindly again.

Do I sound bitter? I don't really mean it like that. It's just a lot to handle, you know? What would you do if your best friend just walked up to you, bashed you over the head, and then demanded that you change your viewpoint on your entire life? It's not an easy pill to swallow, even for the sake of someone that you love.

Yeah, I love Tengo. He's been my best friend ever since I can remember. Who doesn't love their best friend? He's almost like a part of the family, at least to me. I'm sure my other relatives would disagree.

I guess my main problem with all of this centers on one final fact. Tengo was right, and yet I can't help feel that I'm right as well. Between him, and me, I just don't know who's really right. No matter which way I believe I'll lose something that I value. If I decide Tengo's right, then I lose the farm, my home, my dream for the future. I lose my relatives, and all the other people that I've built up a kinship for through the sharing of blood, of skin color. All my treasured memories are polluted, and things can never be the same again. If I continue along my merry way, holding the same beliefs true though, I can kiss Tengo good-bye. Figuratively speaking of course. My best friend will be forever lost to me, and I won't even be able to think fondly on him because in the end he'd be the betrayer. He took away my complacency, my assurance that I'm right, justified in my beliefs. I don't know if I'll ever be able to get that back.

I don't like change; I never have. If I could, I'd turn back time, back to when I was innocent of the reality of things like apartheid and prejudice. I saw everything through rose-colored glasses back then. Too bad they got smashed when I found out that my best friend is a kaffir agitator.

No, that's not right. First, he's not a kaffir. He's a person with emotions, thoughts, and opinions, and the word kaffir is entirely too crude to convey that. Second, he's not an agitator. He's my friend. He's fighting for something he believes in. Agitators stir up trouble just to, well, agitate. No, Tengo, he's like a missionary, spreading his religion. Or maybe he's a revolutionary. Yeah, he's fighting for freedom and equality, just like all those people in history. I can't think of any good examples right now. My head hurts too much and I was never good at school anyway. That's Tengo though, a brave young man fighting for a new tomorrow. If I think about it like that, it seems almost like one of those dime novels I used to read: full of heroes, and villains, and adventure. It's not though. This is real life, and it's a lot more painful than any silly book.

You must have noticed how I was thinking for a minute there. If I let myself, I would be sympathizing with Tengo right now, agreeing with his cause. Surely I'm a traitor for doing this, for even thinking about siding with him. He made a whole lot of sense though, even to my pain-clouded mind. What's wrong with me that I could even think of placing the welfare of a bunch of kaffirs before that of my true people? If they're pushed down, well, they let it happen, right? And if they're being killed, well, they were the ones causing problems. And if they don't like their lot in life that's their problem for being born black. Right? This is what I've been told my entire life, by people I've trusted to steer me true. How can it be wrong? Why can't things just stay the same? I used to be happy, and secure in my knowledge of right and wrong. I trust my parents, and Oom Koos and Tant Sannie. But I trust Tengo too. I feel like I'm being betrayed on all sides.

I guess the only person left for me to trust is me. That should be a novel experience. It's something I've rarely done. I always thought others knew best, and I let them guide me. Well, now I'm going to forget about that. Maybe it's time I formed my own opinions. So I guess the first step to that would be thinking logically. Use my past experiences to shape my future or something like that.

I don't think I ever consciously looked down on blacks. Yeah, I did all the subconscious things that society made seem ok, but I'd like to think that I never deliberately did anything too...what's the word I'm looking for? Superior, maybe? In any case, I've always tried to treat our blacks with respect. Maybe I haven't succeeded all the time, and it's hard to remember every detail of something you took for granted. It's like trying to remember every meal you've eaten in you life. In detail. Simply not possible. I'm fairly sure that I've always been good though.

You know, I wasn't always so...indoctrinated, I guess. I can remember this one time when I was really little just like it was yesterday. I couldn't have been more than three or four, but it stuck in my memory.

During one of my many visits to my aunt and uncle, I had been growing increasingly disturbed all day, noticing little things. I saw then how Tengo was given less than I was; punished more when we did something wrong, and treated worse than me. And it bothered me like crazy. I knew that I couldn't just let it sit. I had to find out why.

Now, if there's one lesson that my mother has drilled into my head, it's to always ask questions in private. I have a vague memory tucked somewhere in the back of my head of asking one of my mother's lady friends a question that I thought was harmless. The next thing I knew, her hand had slapped my face, hard, and she was leaving in a huff. I'm fairly sure the question had something to do with her underclothes and her husband, but it's been washed away by time. I think I'll always remember that hard-learned lesson though: questions are for in private.

So anyway, I'd been simmering all day about Tengo's mistreatment - he was my friend, and I wanted him to be happy, not treated unfairly - so that night I asked Tant Sannie about it. She explained quite matter-of-factly that he was just a kaffir, and he'd been treated exactly right. She told me I was white, and therefore better than him and that I must never forget that.

My protest that it wasn't fair was met with sharp anger and a cold stare. I think she gave me the worst scolding of my life then, ending with the firm statement that if I continued to think such nonsense I wouldn't be seeing Tengo again.

I kept quiet after that, sufficiently cowed by her threat, and eventually I grew to see the different treatments as natural. Tant Sannie's words faded, but never disappeared from my mind. Asking me to erase years of that in only a few minutes...it was almost as surprising and incomprehensible as if someone had caught me eating an apple and said, "Hey! Don't you realize that apple has feelings too? What if it doesn't want to be eaten? You can't discriminate against it just because it's a fruit!" Just imagine it. It'd take you a lot to be convinced otherwise, right?

I've got to remember to use that argument when people start telling me I'm crazy for spouting support for the kaffirs. Well, maybe not. I don't think talking about apples would help me persuade them that I wasn't crazy, after all. If I ever saw Tengo again though, I might tell him that.

Wait. I'm doing it again. Why can't my heart just wait for my mind to decide? I'm just trying to be rational here, and off goes my heart with all that rubbish. How am I supposed to get anything done like that?

Then again, maybe being rational is what's caused this mess in the first place. It's easy to rationalize things away. Easier than admitting you're wrong. I can just imagine my ancestors now. "You know we really need some cheap labor. Oh, look, there's some of those weird black people. It's so strange, their skin is colored, and they don't have our technology so they must be savages. They're like animals. Let's just make them our slaves. That way, we don't have to pay them to work, and if anyone protests, we can just say 'Look at them! They're colored! They're savages! They're animals! Animals don't have rights.'"

And then when they showed they were human, it'd already be engrained into the white's minds that since they were a different color they must be inferior. Sure the blacks would have objected at first, but eventually they'd be stifled, and come to accept slavery as their lot in life. It's not that big of a stretch.

If that's rational, I don't even want to attempt the same. Maybe it's time I let my heart tell me what to do. So I guess this means I accept as truth everything that Tengo's told me. That he's the oppressed and I'm the oppressor, that we were never really friends, that all the adults I've listened to have been wrong, that blacks do deserve more rights...

I don't know if I can do this. Tengo-he was my best friend. I cherish my memories of our childhood friendship. Was it really all lies? I doubt that. I remember a time when neither of us cared a bit about racial dividers...Could that really have all been just an act? I'd like to believe not. Forgive me if I'm a sap, but I just can't believe that.

Then there's the farm. I love that place like no other. It's all I've been hoping and dreaming about since as long as I can remember. Can the mistakes of all my people really take that away from me? It's just not fair! I've worked for it, focused all my energy on it. I've earned it. The problem is, the blacks have worked for it and earned it infinitely more. They deserve it. But I want it, I need it, I love it. I simply can't balance the two out in my head. This is the one thing I can't bring myself to give up on. Surely no one could blame me for that.

Tengo's voice floats up from my memory, sounding infinitely weary. "I don't blame you for that. I'm blaming you for not knowing. For not wanting to know."

There he goes again. Why can't there just a some kind of resolution that will allow both of our dreams to come true? It's not so much that I want, in comparison. Just my right: the farm. But it's not my right. God, this is tearing me apart. I feel like I'm going to break into pieces, and some doctor will come in a stare in dismay at all the Frikkie shards laying scattered across the otherwise empty bed.

I don't break though, and the sound of a doorknob being turned ends my solitude. At least I was half right. The bespectacled man who enters the room bears a simple nametag stating 'Dr. Doring.' He looks surprised to see me awake, and his smile is more professional than sincere. "Ah, you're awake. How are you feeling?"

Antisocial is what I feel like saying. Instead I politely reply, "Much better, thank you."

"Good." He doesn't say anything more, just moves professionally around the room for a few minutes before leaving with a stern admonition to get some rest. I hold in my snort until after he's gone. I have a feeling that I won't rest peacefully for a long time now. Too much knowledge makes for an uneasy heart and mine feels like it will never be still again.

* * *

The bar is nearly empty, but I don't really care. It's not like I'm looking for company. Sure, it might help distract me from things, but it'd also mean making conversation. Not something I want to do. Besides, I kind of have this image of myself, and company would spoil that.

_He sits in the corner, nursing his drink, shooting mistrusting looks at the world that's hurt him so. The other patrons see him as a mysterious stranger, someone whose secrets are too painful to know. He is an enigma._

I have also been reading way too many books since I've been in the hospital. They may not be good for my constant headache, which has mercifully faded away to nearly nothing, but at least they distract me from my thoughts. Besides, I think I'm actually starting to like them. It's fun to use your imagination to change reality so you like it better. I only wish I had some way to make the changes permanent. Things would be so much easier.

There's a man approaching now. I don't know him, or why he'd come near me, but I'm the only one over here, so it has to be either me or an empty table that he's aiming for.

Sure enough, he settles down at my table directly across from me. He doesn't even ask permission. How rude can you get? This is just perfect for my imagination to play with though.

_The curious man approaches the enigmatic stranger. He can't resist the fascination and wonders what could bring a man like him to a place like this. "What brings you to our part of town?" he asks in a friendly manner._

_The stranger looks at him with a half-smile, eyes full of secrets that no ordinary man can comprehend. "Just passing through," he replies quietly._

"What's a kid like you doing here?"

What a way to ruin a perfectly good fantasy. The man's voice is harsh and condescending, and I stiffen at the insult in his words. " 'M not a kid," I inform him before I'm even aware that I plan to speak. The slurring quality to my voice is even more unexpected. I guess I have had a little too much to drink.

The man smiles at me knowingly, which only increases my rapidly growing irritation. Still, he refrains from calling me 'kid' again. That's definitely a good thing. "You didn't answer my question." My blank look must hint at the fact that I have no clue what he's talking about. His expression is a strange mixture of amusement and exasperation. "What are you doing here?"

Oh, that question. Well, don't I feel stupid. Now how to answer? 'My best friend bashed me over the head and told me some disturbing stuff. I couldn't stop thinking about it, so I thought I'd get drunk.'? Uh, no. Better stick with the generic brand of stupid excuses. "I just needed to get out." Well, it's true.

He looks skeptical. "What could be so wrong with your life?"

Ok, I'd better bluff on this one. Say something stupid. "I'm fighting for a country I don't care about, against a cause I'm beginning to really believe in, for a right that isn't mine to begin with. My best friend thinks I'm a prejudiced idiot, and I think that I have to be the stupidest creature on the planet. I'm torn between two opposite possibilities, and frankly I just feel like I'm going to explode!"

Well, there goes the whole idea of lying until the guy leaves. He's got the whole wide-eyed look going now. I really should not have blurted that out. With the way things are these days, I could get lynched for even thinking about saying something in support of the ka- blacks. That was definitely not the smartest thing I've ever done.

I wonder if he'd believe me if I told him I was just temporarily insane. Probably not. Can my life get any worse? Wait, I take that back. Don't want to tempt fate. Seeing ways it could get worse first-hand does not sound pleasant.

I dearly wish there was some way I could get rid of this guy. Hmmm...Maybe if I just act insane until he leaves? I glance at him surreptitiously, trying to decide whether or not it would work. He hasn't said anything since my little unintentional confession, and he has an odd expression on his face. I never was good at reading facial expressions.

For that matter, I've never really been good with people at all. I thought maybe Tengo was one the few exceptions to that rule. Just shows how bad I am at the entire business.

Either way, I have two guesses about this guy's look. One, he's thoughtful. That's fine with me. Just as long as he doesn't decide to burden me with the reason behind it. Then again, (second guess here) maybe he's just constipated. I'm hoping it's the first one, because I really don't want to hear about the second. Finally, he speaks. "Sounds like you're having a crisis of faith."

Huh. How perceptive. "Maybe I am."

"Care to talk about it?"

Now that is a good question, and therein my dilemma lies. Yeah, I want to talk about it. I want someone to take the entire mess out of my hands, and just tell me what to do. I don't want to take responsibility for this decision. But can I trust this guy? He's as random as they come, and I know nothing about him. There's nothing there to base a decision on. What am I supposed to do?

I've hesitated for several minutes now, and I don't think I'm any closer to getting to an answer. My mind is just going in circles. That was why I left the hospital in the first place, and now it's followed me here. I am not happy. Life sucks.

"Here, let me help you out," the guy says. I guess he's come to the same conclusion as me. "You're confused about the issue of black rights versus your own wishes."

My mouth drops open. "How'd you know?" Wait a minute! I need a muzzle or something. I swear if I keep on talking so impulsively, I'm going to beat myself up or something. Then again, thinking hasn't exactly been the best thing for me to do lately. Maybe I should just try to go with the flow.

"Well, in case you didn't know, kid, this is the base of one of the largest organizations in favor of black rights in South Africa."

"You know, I do have a name, and it's not kid, I'm Frikkie," I snap, temporarily ignoring his words. Then it sinks in. Oh, man, I have such bad luck. Someone please just put me out of my misery. Feeling entirely too helpless for my own liking, I let me head fall to bang against the table. I wince as we make contact. That was not the smartest thing to do when you're still recovering from a concussion.

The guy laughs. Nice to see that someone's getting some enjoyment out of all this. I'm certainly not. Mental torture is definitely not my thing.

I raise my head and give the guy a bleak stare. He deserves it, though I'm not sure why. Probably just for being there, I conclude before saying, "Fine. If you know so much, deconfuse me."

He finally enough from his bout of laughter to talk to me. Bully for him. "Right. Frikkie, is it?"

I nod.

"Ok, Frikkie, it's like this. Blacks are recognized as equal to whites in most of the civilized world. Slavery is quick becoming obsolete, and apartheid is a thing of the past. Blacks are just like whites, only with darker skin. Now is the time for acceptance, not oppression."

I blink. Wow...brain overload. "Huh?" is my oh-so-intelligent response.

"Heh. Guess that was a little fast," the guy says sheepishly. "Here, let's start a bit slower. First of all, I'm Dan. No, it's not my real name. A guy's gotta have some plausible deniability. So, why don't you just tell me exactly what happened to you?"

I hesitate, but in the end the temptation is too great. Truthfully, it might actually have been my best idea in a very long while. I don't know why, but putting everything in words just...made the whole issue more transparent and less translucent. You know what I mean. When something's transparent, the images are so sharp that you know exactly what's going on. When it's translucent, it's fuzzy and vague. I'm definitely liking the transparent right about now.

I feel as if I've been blindfolded my entire life. Tengo ripped the blindfold off of my face, and now my eyes are finally starting to adjust to the light. It's painful, but maybe once it's over I'll finally be able to see. At least, I hope so. This is an awful lot of trouble to be going through for no reason, you know.

Dan is actually a really good listener. He nods and 'mmhm's at all the right moments, but he doesn't interrupt. That's nice. When I'm done, I find myself staring at Dan like he's going to give me the answers to all of life's big questions. Maybe if I get lucky, he will.

He keeps quiet long enough for me to start panicking. I mean, you never know. For all I know, the guy could have lied to me and be some kind of government agent or something. Would that be the end of my life or what? Finally though, Dan laughs and shakes his head. I could take offense at how this guy keeps laughing at me, but that'd be hypocritical. I'm willing to bet that I'd be laughing at me too if I was him. Of course, technically, I wouldn't be laughing at me if I was him because it wouldn't me, it'd be some other guy, and like I said, I'd be him. So yeah, I wouldn't laugh at me per se. Just a guy acting like I currently am...Did that make any sense whatsoever? So anyway, back to him laughing at me. He stops the laughing soon enough, but he keeps on shaking his head. He looks odd, and I'm impatient for him to get on with whatever it is.

"Care to let me in on the joke?" I ask.

That sets him off into more laughing. This guy is so happy that there's got to be a law against it somewhere. Not that he'd obey it to anything, but it's got to be out there. He answers through his laughter, voice surprisingly calm. "Kid, you don't need me."

I blink. First of all, he called me 'kid' again. I hate that. Second...I don't need help? Well, that's news to me. Quirking an eyebrow, I wait as patiently as I can manage for him to explain. Thankfully, he doesn't keep me waiting for very long. "If you'd just listen to yourself, Frikkie, you'd know that you've already made up your mind. You just don't realize it yet."

"Really, Oh All-Knowing One? Well, please educate me in the ways of my mind." That came out a little crueler than I'd intended it to, but he doesn't seem bothered. Guess there's not need to apologize.

"You know that blacks are our equals in every way and that they deserve to be acknowledged as such. You just haven't come to terms with it yet. When you do, come back here and see me. I might be able to help."

With that he stands and exits the bar, leaving me alone with my drink and my supposedly already made-up mind.

* * *

It takes me almost another week to do it, but I do come to terms with my newly discovered beliefs. My decision was probably pushed forward at least in part by my complete recovery. There's nothing like the threat of having a decision truly taken out of your hands to give a needed push.

Of course, realizing how surprisingly unprejudiced against blacks I am leaves me with yet another problem. I swear that if I ever get out of this whole mental crisis phase I'm going to just have a mental breakdown. Or maybe a heart attack. You know, from shock. So here I am, all of a sudden pro-black rights, and me enlisted in an army that fights against them. How do I get into these situations?

Somehow I find myself making my way back to the same bar. It's hard to say why I go there. I don't really think I expect answers again. I guess it's just one of those unexplained things that tend to happen in life. Go figure.

As soon as I enter the bar, I feel as if everyone's staring at me. Wishing I could become invisible or something, I make my slow way over to an unoccupied table.

The waitress is the same as the last time: a graying woman with a tired smile. Apparently she recognizes me as well. "Oh, you were in here a week ago, right?"

"Yeah."

She pulls a wrinkled envelope out of the pocket in her apron. "Here. Dan left this for you."

I take it from her, curiosity almost uncontrollable. How did that guy even know that I was coming back? I didn't even know until I got here. I begin to open the envelope, totally forgetting about the waitress.

She clears her throat. "Anything to drink?"

Distracted, I mutter, "Just water, thanks."

I don't even look up to see if she leaves, I just concentrate my attention on the letter. It begins 'Dear kid,' and I just have to take a moment to fume over that. Recovering my composure, I continue to read.

'I figured you'd be back. I take it you finally figured out what you already knew. Good for you. A lot of people never even get that far. I'm proud of you, and now I want to give you a chance to be proud of yourself. I've a friend who can help with that, I think. The only catch is, at least at the present, the package does not include a place in South Africa. I've wasted enough of your time though. Just ask the woman who gave you this letter where Alex is. He'll tell you all the details I'm sure you're burning for. Good luck, kid.

Dan'

I briefly consider crumpling the note up and throwing it away, just to make up for the times he called me 'kid.' That's just a little too petty for me though, and I never really cared for petty things. So instead I find myself carefully folding the note and placing it in my pocket. I'm not so sure about asking after this Alex guy, but it means a lot that this guy I've only met once in my life thought of me. I mean, if nothing else, it's definitely an ego booster.

Soon the waitress returns with my water. I hold the note the entire two seconds she's there, but though I open my mouth several times, the only thing I say is "Thank you." Yeah, I'm a coward. Blah, blah, blah. I'm not a spontaneous person generally, unless my mouth happens to escape from me. Forgive me if I don't want to break that trend by making a major life-altering decision with only a few minutes of thought.

It's not like I'm a genius in the first place. I missed so many things over the years...I really don't want to make the same mistake twice. I'm not that dumb, thank you. A bar isn't the best place for soul-searching though, I soon discover.

A sudden burst of noise pulls me out my thoughts. Annoyingly, I find myself staring blankly at a nearby group of people, mind empty.

Shaking my head irritably, I force my thoughts into focus. It doesn't last long though. Within a minute, if that, I find myself once again staring blankly at the same group of people. Ok, maybe it's a sign. Maybe watching these people will somehow help me get some answers.

So I let myself go, and rather quickly my attention is drawn toward a black-haired man near the middle of the group. Because of the high noise level, I can't hear a word he's saying, but his presence is captivating. He demands a person's undivided attention. I believe he's what would be termed as a 'natural-born leader.' It's extremely impressive, and now I find myself absolutely unable to look away.

So I watch for a few minutes, content to merely observe. Eventually I guess the spell wore off a little though, and a driving curiosity begins to grow in my head. I have to know what he's saying, what could cause such animation, conviction, emotion.

Barely even realizing what I'm doing, I rise and begin to approach him. I ignore the startled, irritated, and downright nasty looks that people give me, and push my way through until I'm standing directly in front of him.

He looks up at me with calculation in his eyes, and asks, "Who are you?"

"The name's Frikkie. You?" Well, at least I don't sound like too much of a bungling idiot. I have a feeling that I will before this confrontation is over.

"I'm Alex."

I nod. "Thought so."

"Hmm. You must be the kid that Dan told me about."

Inwardly fuming, at least I manage to keep my calm outwardly. I hope. I really do hate being called 'kid' though. He laughs at me, and I know I must appear just as annoyed as I feel. Figures. "Dan said you might have a way to help me..." I say, trying to regain some of my composure.

He obliges me, and goes along with the change of subject. "There are certain avenues, if you're interested in a change of scenery."

"How permanent would this change of scenery be?"

He shrugs. "A few weeks, couple years, a lifetime. It all depends on you."

Well, that doesn't sound quite so bad... "I'm listening."

"A few years of study in either America or Europe. You'll be provided with a host family to mentor you, and you'll be exposed to an entirely different culture. It'll be a great learning experience."

"But how do I get out of these military obligations?" I ask, feeling suddenly bold. Why not? I don't have that much to lose. I'm beginning to realize that no matter what I do, the farm is lost to me. If Tengo's predictions come true, then there's no way I'll be allowed to keep it. And even if Tengo was wrong, which he rarely is, the guilt and shame of taking over when I don't deserve it...I don't think I could live with that, knowing what I do now. So does it really matter what I do, if I stay here? Maybe I'd be better off learning a new way to do things.

"Truthfully? You probably would be named a deserter."

"So I wouldn't be able to come back."

"Unless you'd like to spend some time in jail, which could be a learning experience all of its own."

I scowl at Alex.

He shrugs and continues. "However, if there's a change of government, which is our goal after all, then I'm sure you'll be welcomed back. You know, as a man with a worldly outlook."

"So, what do I need to do?"

"There'll be interviews, but nothing too strenuous. Our people hold your enlightened views in high regard."

Right...Feeling another long and drawn out internal debate rising up in me, I revise my earlier opinion. Spontaneity can be great, and I'm going to employ it now. "I'll do it."

Alex looks only mildly surprised, but I must be bearing a startling resemblance to a stunned sheep right about now. I'd hoped that really making a decision would make me feel a little better, but I'd never expected the overwhelming relief that just flood through me. I guess that was all I needed in the end: a decision. There's no turning back now, and that's just the way I want it.

Maybe being in America or Europe will teach me a better way. Or then again, maybe it won't. Whatever the outcome, it'll be an adventure, and I can't help but feel that I'm making the right choice. Or at least it's the right choice for me. I'm not letting myself be pushed around by what everyone else wants, and it feels great. I should do this more often. Hopefully, in the future I will.

FIN!


End file.
